Tumblr Tales
by Rumaan
Summary: A collection of my Jon x Sansa drabbles written on tumblr for various prompts.
1. Chapter 1

**You can find the link to my tumblr on my profile if you wish to follow me and/or drop me a prompt!**

**None of these are betaed so please forgive any mistakes or typos.**

**Disclaimer: I am not GRRM and these are all written purely for fun and the love of Jon x Sansa. This disclaimers holds for everything posted here.**

**Written for labonsoirfemme for the prompt: Jon x Sansa - cooking/baking, ~*alone*~ or with others.**

* * *

Sansa giggled as she turned from putting the tray of cupcakes into the oven and noticed the smudge of flour decorating Jon's cheekbone.

"What?" he asked, looking self-conscious now the flurry of activity the baking had produced was over.

Sansa had been as shocked as anyone when Jon had volunteered to help her bake the last remaining goodies needed for Rickon's birthday party tomorrow. None of her siblings had offered to help, all slinking out as she let out irritated sigh at their retreating backs.

Only Jon stayed in the kitchen, ignoring Robb's raised eyebrows as he'd dug his hands in his pockets and quietly asked what she had needed help with.

It was the first time Sansa had seen him in a few years and she had been surprised at the change. Gone was the skinny boy with the sad eyes who had been ever present at their house after his dad had died and his stepmother had moved back to Sicily, where her family lived. Jon had been placed in foster care but had ended up most nights at their place, his foster family not really caring what he did as long as they got their money from the Local Authority.

Now, he stood a few inches taller than Robb and had filled out. She'd had trouble keeping her hands from wandering too close to his arms all evening. They looked impressive in the casually rolled up flannel shirt he wore.

Whilst they had mixed the cake batter up, she had asked him why he had stayed around to help. He had shrugged and said he'd never baked before and she'd had to tamp down the pang of pity she had felt for the lonely little outcast of a boy he'd been.

"You've got flour on your face," she said.

The flush in his cheeks already present thanks to the overwarm kitchen deepened and he rubbed at his cheek, somehow managing to miss the flour.

"Here," she said, coming over with a tea towel and leaning up to brush it off.

She teetered slightly, finding Jon to be even taller than he appeared.

"Steady," he said a little gruffly, putting his hand on her waist to steady her as her hands naturally landed on his shoulders.

"Thanks," she said quietly and although she knew she should draw back, she found herself staring into his eyes. She had never noticed them before, but they were beautiful. A deep, dark grey framed with thick black eyelashes that always seemed unfair on a boy.

Her eyes dropped to his lips and her breath hitched as he licked them. Unconsciously she moved closer, puckering her lips slightly before a blast of cold wind signalled the entry of someone into the kitchen and Jon pulled his head up, dropping his hands from her waist and rubbing at his neck.

"Don't mind me," Robb said with an edge in his tone as he took in how close they stood to each other. "Have you finished playing house with my _baby _sister, yet?"

Sansa bristled at Robb's tone, ready to snap back when Jon, ignoring Robb's narrow eyed glare, looked at her and said, "Is there anything else you need help with, Sansa?"

"As a matter of fact, you could help me with the icing," she replied, taking the excuse the grab his arm and feel if they were just as impressive as they looked.

Robb huffed noisily and Sansa looked over her shoulder at her irritated brother and stuck her tongue out.

She wasn't ready to relinquish him just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Written for jemmilou, the prompt was: Jon is the neighborhood watch leader and catches Sansa in a compromising position.**

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The sound of shoes scuffing against stone had his head whipping around and he peered into the darkened front garden of the house opposite.

As he eyes adjusted to the gloom of the shadowy garden, he saw the outline of someone clinging to a wisteria vine that looked as if it was about to pull away from the wall.

Sighing and cursing his luck at coming across a potential burglary when all he wanted was to pass on his bed. He also cursed Sam for the fifth time that night. He'd signed up to the Night's Watch as a favour to Sam, who had come home to find his house ransacked and had decided to set up a Neighbourhood Watch scheme. Jon had tried to tell him the idea of a Neighbourhood Watch had died out years ago and besides, they had always been the domain of busybody, net curtain twitching old ladies, not a bunch of guys in their twenties.

"We'll give it a different name, something cool," Sam had said, before coming up with the Night's Watch.

Jon had rolled his eyes but joined Sam, Pyp and Grenn out of loyalty more than anything.

Creeping forward, not keen to start a confrontation, Jon peeked around the hawthorn tree that spilled out onto the pavement. Before he could call out, there was a crash and scream and he darted forward, catching the surprisingly light would-be thief.

It was a her, he realised, as her legs wrapped around his waist and he found himself with a handful of pert bottom. Next door's security light activated and he looked up into the prettiest face he'd seen in a long time. Big blue eyes shone out at him and he had the urge to brush the stray tendril of auburn hair that was stuck to her cheek. He quickly dropped her down onto her feet.

"Are you a knight?" she asked, panting a little as she sought to catch her breath.

"No," he said. "I'm part of the Night's Watch."

Jon mentally groaned at his instinctive answer as she giggled. "The what?"

"Never mind," he said, determined not to sound anymore nerdy than his original answer had made him. "Are you attempting to break into this property?"

The laughter started up again. "No!" she said. "I'm house sitting for my brother, but I've managed to lock myself out."

He looked up at the door then. "You're Robb's sister?" he asked, realising that they shared the same colouring.

"Yep. Sansa Stark," she said, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

"Jon Snow," he replied. "And I have a spare key for Robb. He gets me to feed Grey Wind sometimes. I'll go fetch it for you."

"Do you have coffee as well?" Sansa asked, with a little flirtatious look up at him that had him gulping.


	3. Chapter 3

**Written for the prompt: Jon Snow has one real fear. Bees. Sansa needs to remove the stinger, and distracts him.**

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Sansa hadn't imagined Jon being afraid of something as innocuous as a bee but there he was, pasty faced and shaking as he stared down at the bee sting that was currently residing in the pad of this tumb.

Theon and Robb were of no use, both just creasing up with laughter at the bearded young man sweating over a small insect sting.

"Here," Sansa said, as she walked back through the French doors and onto the decking where they had been setting up for the first summer barbeque of the year. She had tweezers, warm water, cotton wool and antiseptic on a small tray that she calmly set down in the table.

"Give me your hand," she said, ignoring the antics of her brother and his moronic friend.

"Sorry," Jon said, embarrassment lacing his tone. "I just really don't like bees."

Sansa shrugged. "Everyone has phobias and they are rarely rational. I remember Robb screaming like a little baby over a spider in his bedroom. Oh, when was that, Robb? Ten days ago? Arya had to remove it for you."

Her older brother stopped laughing and scowled at her. "When nurse Sansa has finished with you, come find us in the living room," he said to Jon before stomping off.

Sansa smiled as she took Jon's hand, placing it palm up on the glass table. "I thought that would get rid of him."

"Thanks," he muttered, but Sansa could tell he was focused on the bee sting. His hand was shaking so hard that there was no way she would be able to remove the sting unless he was sufficiently distracted.

A gleam of mischief shone out of her eyes. She wasn't blind and she saw the way both Theon and Jon looked at her when Robb wasn't paying attention. She flipped her hair back behind shoulders and fanned her hand against her face.

"Wow, the sun is hot today," she said, removing the cardigan she had been wearing buttoned up, leaving her in the matching vest.

It had the required result, Jon's eyes tracked her movements, his hand no longer shaking as his attention focused on her. Unfortunately, she was the one suddenly feeling shivery, as his grey gaze skimmed across her newly bared skin, leaving goosebumps in it's wake.

_Focus, Sansa_, she scolded herself and grabbed the tweezers, using his distraction to swiftly pull the sting out.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed before looking down at his hand. "Oh! It's gone."

"A bit like a plaster," she said with a wink. "It hurts less if you do it quickly."

He watched in silence as she washed the puncture with the warm water and dabbed a bit of Germolene on it.

"There," Sansa said with a pat of his hand. "All done."

She smiled as he flexed his thumb and said, "Thank you. You're really good at this."

"A lifetime of patching up my brothers. It's not a normal day unless Rickon has bled from somewhere."

That got a rare rumbling laugh from him as he rose. "I guess I better go and find Robb and Theon and get the teasing out of the way."

"Uh-uh. Where's my kiss thank you? Rickon and Bran always give me a thank you kiss," she said teasingly, pointing to her cheek.

Jon ran a hand through his messy curls and dropped his eyes to her lips before leaning in to drop a chaste kiss on her cheek. In an impulsive move, Sansa moved her head so his lips met hers instead, causing him to momentarily freeze, before his hand cupped her cheek tenderly. His lips softened and parted, his tongue licking along the seam of her lips before she sighed into his mouth and threaded her hands through his hair.

A long while later, Theon came through the doors and said, "Jon? Have you fain-" before he trailed off, his mouth agape as Sansa scrambled off Jon's lap, straightening her top, and blushing fiercely.

"ROBB!" Theon shouted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Written for the prompt: jon/sansa - she gets very dressy for something and he is just completely FLOORED and flustered etc.**

* * *

"I'm not going with my brother, Robb! God, I'd look even more pathetic then." Jon heard Sansa yell before her bedroom door slammed. Robb's despondent footsteps could be heard coming downstairs.

Jon fiddled with his watch uncomfortably as he sat in the Stark front room and tried to focus on the film that Bran and Rickon were intently watching, able to ignore all the drama happening upstairs for the flashes and bangs of the Harry Potter film.

"I don't understand," Catelyn Stark said. "Why would Joffrey do this four hours before the prom is due to start?"

"Because he's a little shit," Robb said darkly.

Jon had entered the Stark house just as the shitstorm was starting. He'd heard the cry from upstairs as he'd stepped through the front door, as well as the furious argument that had followed. Apparently Joffrey had decided he didn't want to take Sansa to the Prom any more, but some girl called Margaery Tyrell.

"Says she's not going now," Robb informed his parents.

Ned sat opposite Jon, a thoughtful expression on his face before he turned to Jon. "Robb, come here!" he called. "Get up, Jon, and stand back to back with Robb."

Jon look at Robb, glad to see his friend looked as confused as he did, but did as Ned asked. The Stark patriarch had always been good to him, looking out for him when no one else had, and making sure he had someone he could turn to when life at the all-boys home had become tough.

"Hmm, slightly taller than Robb, but not enough that it will matter."

"Ned?" Catelyn had asked confused.

"I'm not letting that little shit ruin Sansa's prom," Ned said, a grim expression on his face. "Especially not because his mother has decided she has some kind of vendetta against me. Sansa's been looking forward to that dance ever since she saw our old pictures, Cat. She's going and Jon can take her."

* * *

Jon stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Sansa to come down, and trying his hardest not to fidget with the tie. He wasn't quite sure how this had happened, he hadn't even attended his own prom. But Ned had asked him for this favour and he could not turn him down. Robb stood with the camera slung around his neck, waiting to take the photos, the biggest grin on his face.

"I don't think I've ever seen you out of jeans," he teased.

"Shut up!"

"Robb!" Catelyn scolded gently. She had not looked thrilled at the suggestion at first, but had soon come round to Ned's idea. "Jon looks very dashing."

"The grey matches your eyes," Robb said in a soulful tone earning a snigger from Arya.

Jon scowled but before he could send a scathing comment Robb's way, Sansa's footsteps could be heard above. His eyes rose to watch her come downstairs and he was glad everyone else was looking at her too as his mouth dropped open when he saw her.

She looked stunning. Oh, she had always been a pretty girl but somehow in the two years since he had last seen her she had turned into a beautiful woman, the purple dress clinging to her curves and accentuating her auburn hair.

He gulped as her eyes met his and she smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you, Jon," she said as she reached the bottom of the stairs and stood by his side.

"It's my pleasure," he said, frowning slightly at how husky his voice sounded.

Robb started snapping the pictures then and Jon hoped some came out where he wasn't just staring at Sansa, mouth agape.

Ned came out to give Sansa a hug and Jon heard him tell her in a low voice, "You forget about Joffrey. You'll meet someone brave and gentle and strong and forget all about him."

As Sansa kissed Ned on the cheek, her eyes met Jon's and she smiled. "You're right, daddy, I will."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: A follow up to the previous drabble, which I am calling Prom!AU**

* * *

Sansa excused herself to Jon, her hands were shaking so badly that she needed a minute to compose herself. Her relief at being able to go to the Prom had lasted until she and Jon had arrived at the venue. Then the stares and whispers had started, several people laughing outright in her face and her joy had fled.

Now she was sitting in the bathroom, trying to get her nerves under control.

"Can you believe Sansa still came?"

"I didn't expect her to show her face for a least a week."

"Serves her right. If I had to listen to her going on about how amazing Joff was one more time…"

The two girls burst into laughter and Sansa's hands shook harder.

"Who's the poor sap she managed to rope into being a last minute date?"

"I heard Joff say it was her brother and that no one else would be that desperate to bring her. Where else would she get a date four hours before Prom was due to start?"

"Hmm…doesn't look like her. I heard all her brothers had auburn hair. Who cares, he's gorgeous. Wonder if he'll be happy to ditch her, too?"

Sansa's hands curled into fists but before she could storm out of the cubicle to confront them, they left the bathroom.

Her anxiety gave away to anger. _I'll show them_, she thought.

Jon was right where she had left him, propping the wall up and watching the proceedings with a bored expression on his face. He was much more handsome than she remembered, the grey suit bringing out his eyes and setting his dark curls off to advantage. A few girls milled around to his left, obviously trying to get his attention, but he paid them no heed.

"Sorry about that, darling," she said loudly, knowing that she had an audience.

Jon's eyebrows rose at the endearment but she was pleased that he was quick enough not to question it.

"Everything okay?" he asked in a low voice, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. To Jon it was no doubt a brotherly action, but to outsiders it could be interpreted as intimate.

"Sure. Want to dance?"

He hesitated and Sansa smiled. "Come on, Jon. You can't be that bad! And it's a slow song, all you have to do is sway."

Jon laughed then. "I suppose I can't expect you not to dance at your own Prom."

"Exactly," she said breezily, grabbing his hand and executing a neat little twirl before dragging him off to the dance floor.

Joffrey was there dancing with a beautiful girl with a mass of chestnut girls. _Margaery Tyrell_, she thought and was surprised to note that she did not feel jealous, despite wanting to scratch the other girl's eyes out just a few hours ago.

Joffrey watched Sansa's progress to the middle of the floor, an ugly expression on his face. She gave him a little wave, a bright smile on her lips, knowing that he would not dare come up to her with Jon around. He was a bully and only preyed on the vulnerable and Jon looked anything but defenceless.

Turning back to Jon, Sansa twined her arms around his neck and pressed her body up against his.

"Sansa," he warned, his hands going to her hips to push her back.

She clung even tighter to him and said, "Relax, Jon. It's just a dance."

"Robb would kill me if he saw this. Let alone your dad."

"Robb isn't here and daddy knows you're a good man," she said before burying her face into his neck.

She smiled as she felt his arms slide around her and he relaxed into the dance.

Sansa wasn't sure how long they danced like that for, one slow song morphing into another, but she knew she had never felt so right being this close to any other boy she had dance with. Jon's hands didn't slide down or get grabby, but his thumbs rubbed little circles in the small of her back that had her shivering in delight and closing her eyes.

Her father's words swirled about her head. _Brave and gentle and strong. _Jon was all of those things.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Final installment of the Prom!AU**

* * *

"What's the drama then, loser?" Theon asked as soon as Robb picked up the phone.

"Drama?"

"It was only your Facebook status three hours ago." Robb could hear the mental rolling of eyes coming down the phone.

"Oh, that!"

"Yes, _that_!" Theon mimicked.

"That little shit, Joffrey Baratheon, dumped Sansa four hours before the Prom and said he was going with someone else."

"What?! Who does that?"

Robb smiled at the disgust in Theon's tone. If even _Theon_ thought your behaviour was inexcusable then it most definitely was.

"Didn't you offer to take her?"

"Of course I offered to take her! She turned me down."

Theon sniggered down the phone and Robb scowled. It wasn't that funny and he didn't blame Sansa for saying no. It would be humiliating having to turn up at your Prom with your brother and it went without saying that everyone would know the reason why.

"So Princess Sansa didn't go to her own Prom?"

"No, she went."

"What _stag_?"

"No, Jon took her."

Robb winced and moved the phone a good few inches away from his ear as Theon burst into raucous laughter.

"Have you finally finished?" Robb asked a good two minutes later.

"Yeah, but _Jon_? He didn't even go to our prom. Whose bright idea was that?"

"Dad's."

There was silence for a few seconds. Theon knew better that to say whatever had popped into his mind about Ned Stark to Robb.

"And you're alright with that?" Theon asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, we know how much of a loser Jon is, but the ladies…the ladies seem to dig him."

"What ladies?"

"Well, you know I had that party the other month, which you dragged Jon to. By the way, I'm still not sure I've forgiven you for that. He was just what _every_ party needs a brooding presence propping the wall up."

"Theon!" Robb said, frustrated. "Get on with it. What ladies?"

"Oh yeah, Asha and Jeyne were talking about it the next morning. Going on about how handsome he'd become and how they wanted to run their hands through his hair as well as some other things I'd rather not think about. The news amongst the females is that he is…er…rather talented with his tongue, if you know what I mean."

"What?"

"God, Robb! Do I have to spell it out for you? You know, he likes to go down on the ladies."

"How do you know that?!"

"Asha heard it from her friend, Ygritte. Hey, she has red hair, too. You don't think Jon has a thing for redheads, do you?"

Robb's head reeled from all the information as well as Theon's distracted style of speech. Whilst Theon would happily brag about his sexual exploits, Jon was much more reserved. Robb knew he'd had a girlfriend, but he had never met her.

"I have to go," Robb murmured absent-mindedly.

There was another burst of laughter from the phone. "Going to dig your shotgun out?"

But Robb didn't answer, putting the phone down and staring at his bedroom wall.

Twenty minutes later, he shook his head. Of course Jon wouldn't take advantage of Sansa, but he found himself going downstairs and waiting on the porch anyway.

Robb glared as the pair failed to notice him completely. It was after midnight and he'd been waiting out here for hours when Jon and Sansa finally had shown up. It had taken Robb half a second to clock the arm Jon had around Sansa's shoulder. He watched as they held a whispered conversation entirely too close to each other, but it wasn't until Jon leant down and kissed Sansa and to continued to kissed her that Robb jumped out of his chair and stomped towards the couple, who sprung apart.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he exploded.

"Robb, it's not-" Jon started to say.

"Not what it looks like?!" Robb asked sarcastically.

Jon bit his lip and looked down guiltily.

"Go inside, Sansa. It's time Jon and I had a little chat," Robb said, his anger making his voice louder than he liked.

The front door opened and his father popped a head out. "What's going on out here? I could hear you shouting all the way back in the kitchen."

Robb pointed a finger at Jon. "Why don't you ask _him_ what's going on! I caught him kissing Sansa!"

He was pleased to note that Jon had the sense to look away, shame faced.

"Daddy! Will you talk to Robb? He's being melodramatic and ridiculous plus he was lurking out here spying on me," Sansa said.

Robb narrowed his eyes at Sansa before crossing his arms and waiting for dad to explode on the pair, a smug smile on his face.

Instead, he turned in amazement as his dad said, "Robb, come back inside and give them some privacy."

Robb dropped his arms. "But, dad!"

"Come on, son."

He had no choice but to follow his dad inside but he was pleased to note that Jon still could not look at him. The same could not be said of his sister, who glared as he passed her, hands on hips, looking as angry as when he'd beheaded her Barbie when they were kids.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Robb said, "You know they are probably kissing right now and Theon said-"

"Stop right there, I'm not interested in any sentence that begins 'Theon said' especially not when it concerns Sansa."

"But-"

Ned put a hand on Robb's shoulder. "I know she's your sister and you take being the oldest seriously, but she is going to date. Would you rather her boyfriend be someone like Joffrey again?"

That had the protest dying on Robb lips.

His father looked at him, understanding in his eyes. "Jon's a good man, Robb. He'll treat Sansa right and that's all that matters."

There was no objection Robb could make to that. He knew Jon was better than most men. "I still don't like it."


	7. Changing Relationships

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt on tumblr "Jon x Sansa Stressed".**

* * *

**Changing Relationships**

Jon gripped Sansa's hand firmly and wished he did not feel so stressed by this experience. He had been relaxed until they had driven down the exclusive road that lead to the estate owned by the one of the wealthiest families in Westeros. It had never made him feel out of place before, and he had stayed here with the Starks many times, but then he had just been Robb's best friend. The unfortunate kid Ned had kept an eye on because of a promise he had made to Jon's mother, a distant relative and childhood friend. Now he was going as Sansa's boyfriend, the relationship that no one had seen coming, certainly not Jon.

It had been suggested Sansa go and stay up in the Northern wilderness Jon called home whilst recovering from a bad break-up. Sansa had grown tired of the South and the people who called themselves her friends, but who had dropped her without a moment's notice when things had turned sour with Joffrey. She had wanted to return home, to the North, a place she had been so desperate to leave behind for the glamour and excitement of the South.

A couple of weeks had turned into a couple of months, and Sansa had taken a job helping Gilly at the nursery she owned. It had made Val and Tormund laugh. The Stark heiress and Craster's daughter, but the unlikely duo had kind and compassionate natures, which the young children thrived under.

Seeing Sansa fit into his life and amongst his friends had made Jon view her in a different way. She was no longer the prissy princess who had turned her nose up at the poor interloper in her exclusive life. Instead, she had been willing to muck in and help where needed, just laughing when her clothes became muddy rather than throwing the hissy fit she would have done a few years ago. One thing had led to another and, suddenly, Sansa was no longer sleeping in his spare room but in his bed.

They had kept the relationship quiet for a few months, well as quiet as they could at Castle Black. Of course Tormund had laughed and joked about Sansa breaking Jon's vow of celibacy but nothing had gone beyond the small community. It was not until Sansa's family began to question the amount of time she had spent so far north that they had admitted to their relationship. It was then that Jon had been bidden to attend a family dinner.

He had eaten plenty of Stark family dinners, had witnessed Ned and Robb interrogate Sansa's potential boyfriends, had seen the boys squirm, and chuckled at the whole event. Now he was the one in the spotlight and his palms were sweaty to prove it.

"It will be fine," Sansa murmured as they turned into the driveway and parked outside Winterfell. He nodded and gulped to try and ease the dryness of his mouth. His tongue felt like cotton wool and he wasn't sure he could even get any words out.

Jon's heart pounded as the waited for the heavy wooden door to open. Visions of Grey Wind and Shaggydog waiting to pounce skittered through his mind and he half wished had brought Ghost down with him instead of leaving him with Sam for the weekend.

The door swung open and Sansa was dragged through the door into a bear hug. Her grip on Jon's hand was lost and he heard her muffled protests as Robb mussed her head. She was rescued by an unseen pair of hands and Jon was left to face his oldest friend. Steeling himself, Jon met Robb's eyes with a half sheepish, half defiant expression.

Robb has crossed his arms, a mock scowl on his face. "Sansa, huh?" he said.

"Yes," he replied.

"Hurt her and dad will get Ice out," Robb said, referring the Stark ancestral sword that hung in the gallery at Winterfell.

"Robb! Don't scare Jon before he's even got through the door," Ned admonished coming over to greet Jon. He clasped Jon's hand in his before pulling him into a hug and whispering in his ear, "He's right though."

Jon pulled back in alarm and watched, pupils dilated, as Ned clapped Robb on the back. He had never known Ned to threaten before, and was so worried that he missed the playful wink Ned threw Sansa, who shook her head in amusement.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: Sansa/Jon blissful please. Too rarely do we get to see them just blissfully happy with one another. Love you fics.**

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The first snows of the winter descended on Winterfell unexpectedly, turning the grey fortress into a white wonderland of soft powder and ice overnight.

Sansa stood on the covered bridge than ran between the armoury and the Great Kepp. Her arms were wrapped around her trying to keep the scant warmth from her autumn fur cloak in. She would look for her warmer winter cloak, but she knew that if Lyarra caught her, then she would be confined to the Great Keep for her own health instead of standing here, slightly chilled, but watching her grandchildren leap about in the snow with glee.

Two arms snaked around her waist, much thicker now than it had been when she had first married, and the heavy folds of a large fur lined cloak was draped around her.

She tilted her head up and backwards, looking into Jon's grey eyes, which were framed by a mass of steel grey hair.

"How do you know to find me here?" she asked.

"I followed the sound of children's laughter."

"I love having them here," Sansa said wistfully. "All too soon Lyarra will return to White Harbour."

"Aye, but you still have Beron's pack to keep your hands busy, and Arrana will be here soon enough her brood."

Sansa leant her head back against Jon's shoulder. "That's true."

She closed her eyes, letting the blissful feeling of warmth and happiness wash over her. On the cusp of womanhood, she had thought she would never be happy again. How wrong she had been. Two score years of marriage to Jon had made sure of that.

"I am happy, Jon," she said.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Not as happy as I am."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: This was written for Lady-of-the-English's prompt: How about some classic Jon x Sansa breathless please?**

**It's not very shippy.**

* * *

Dragons had been whispered of in the Vale for several turns of the moon. Reports had come via Gulltown of a silver haired Targaryen princess riding a large black beast reminiscent of Balerion the Dread with two other dragons in tow.

Petyr had scoffed at the rumours.

"Dragons died years ago, Sweetling," he had told her, late one night, when a fat package of letters had been delivered to him via Gulltown, the Mountains of the Moon still impassable thanks to the long harsh winter they were enduring. "The only dragon roaming around Westeros is this boy currently residing in King's Landing and claiming to be Aegon Targaryen. I wonder what game Varys is playing with him."

But the reports did not die down and, as word of more sightings slipped into the Vale, the paler Petyr became. He muttered about being trapped and unable to see what was happening. Any informers he had once had in King's Landing had either fled to safer places or perished in the Greyscale plague that had decimated that city and forced Petyr to close Gulltown and all other places of port in the Vale to any passing ships.

However, the dragon that landed outside the Gates of the Moon was no rumour. It had moss green scales that blended in with the flashes of trees that shone through the snow here and there in the forest that surrounded Nestor Royce's castle. Its bronze eyes gleamed dangerously as they observed the startled people on the battlements who were frozen in terror.

It was undoubtedly a fierce sight, but it was not that which drove the breath from Sansa's lung, leaving her gasping for air. It was the rider on the dragon's back who did that. She recognised that long face and those dark curls even if there was no discernible trace of the boy she had once known left in the features.

"Jon," she breathed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: ****This was written for LadySaruka: if you're still taking prompts- Jon/Sansa, Abandoned**

* * *

Jon should have known better. This was what happened when you stepped so far over the line, you could no longer see it.

Having a summer fling with your best friend's little sister ranked up there with one of the stupidest things a guy could do. Having a fling with said sister when she was the princess type and you were nothing more than a blue collar worker was possibly the dumbest thing that could happen.

To make matters worse, he had topped it off by falling in love with Sansa.

He had revelled all summer in her sweet smiles and even sweeter caresses and convinced himself that their fling could actually go somewhere. Had nearly broached with her several times the idea of speaking to Robb about their relationship. Had even worked out how much he would need to save in order to go and visit her twice a month at her fancy Ivy League university.

Sansa had never been in danger, though.

She had driven off for her first semester of college with barely a backwards glance, excited at the prospect of leaving the sleepy wintery town they lived in to go and mix it up with other rich and glamorous types. No doubt she would soon find her frat house prince.

Jon had never stood a chance.

The worst thing was that he had known this. He was to blame for how he was currently feeling. He was the one who had breached the terms of their fling by falling for her when they had agreed on no strings attached.

That realisation didn't make him feel any less abandoned.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: This was written for the prompt 'breathless' and follows up the previous drabble.**

* * *

The sight of her drives the breath from Jon's lungs. His memory had not done justice to just how beautiful she truly is.

For one lingering moment, they catch eyes, and she gives him a small smile. A private moment in the midst of such a public place that that has his heart racing and his imagination kicking in. For one sweet moment, he pretends that she is walking towards him in that cloud of white tulle that does nothing to dim the pure beauty of her auburn hair.

But then she looks away, walks passed him in a swirl of white satin and lace, and the moment is over, just as she is gone – and has been gone for years. Once more he is left with nothing but the ache of his heart and the sting of rejection that has never dissipated, even after he moved away from Winterfell and all the memories he has of her.

He skips out when she steadfastly vows herself to the upright man standing by her side. Jon cannot bear to sit through the formality of her promising herself to someone other than him.

His hands shake as he lights a cigarette in the shade of an enormous oak tree. He inhales the much needed smoke and bangs his head against the rough bark. She had wanted him to quit and had nagged at him until he did so. He had stuck to it until her engagement was announced in the national press. Then he had gone out and smoked his way through an entire pack.

Jon wishes it was as easy to throw off his love, but Sansa Stark cannot be forgotten. He knows he will never love another the way he still loves her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** **It's the most important game of the season but the only tickets left are in the special couples only Valentine's Day section - pretend to be my date so we can go?**

* * *

It was just her luck! It was the big game against Lannisport City and the tickets were sold out! Sansa tried to stop the tears from filling her eyes as she stomped away from the ticket box at the turnstiles but couldn't stop one tear escaping, which she wiped away angrily.

She knew she shouldn't have waited to get a ticket but she had hoped that Robb would be able to make it back from Riverrrun in time to go with her and so had held off – not wanting to buy two tickets in case. Which had turned out to be a good thing in the end as Robb was still stuck south of the Neck.

And now there were only stupid gimmicky tickets for some tacky Valentine's Day stunt left on sale and the ticket office had refused to sell her any of those stating that it was for couples only.

She kicked an empty drinks can in frustration. This game was important – it was the home match against the hideous Lannisport Lions. The one game her father had always taken them to see because beating Lannisters was always a good thing if you were a Stark.

Sansa wasn't even sure when the huge rivalry had started. It wasn't as if Lannisport City was even close to Winter Town United. However, there was bad blood between Lannisters and Starks although the origins of the hatred was shrouded in the deep mists of time when Westeros was a much more barbaric place and kings had supposedly ruled from an iron throne made of melted down swords.

She couldn't say she particularly cared about the whys or wherefores but she did care about football and she _needed_ to watch this match!

There was a hesitant tap on her shoulder and Sansa spun round about to annihilate whoever had dared to touch her to stop short at the tall, lean figure of someone who looked vaguely familiar.

"Sansa? Sansa Stark?"

"Yeah," she replied a little guardedly.

It wasn't as if she could deny her identity in Winter Town. The Starks had lived in Winterfell forever. Legend said one of her ancestors had built the castle and it was there was always a Brandon in every generation.

However, the pitfalls of being known by sight was that every creep in the vicinity thought they could get away with hitting on you because they already knew your name. She hoped he wasn't one of those guys because he incredibly attractive. The parka he wore did little to hit the broadness of his shoulders and black curls peeped out from the beanie that was smushed down on his head.

"Hi, I don't know if you remember me but I'm Jon. Jon Snow. You know, Robb's friend."

"Jon Snow!" Sansa exclaimed. "Of course I remember you."

_Wow,_ she thought, _he really had grown into that long face!_

Then the happy thought occurred to her. "Hey, I don't suppose you're free this evening are you?"

He shrugged. "I was just heading up to Winterfell to see if Arya was around."

"She's on a date."

"Oh," Jon said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking a little lost.

"Which works out perfectly," Sansa said, grabbing his arm and herding him towards the turnstiles.

"Er…why?" he asked bemused.

"Because you and I are going on a date."

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes wide and confused. "What?" he finally spluttered out.

"Hope you like football, Jon!" she exclaimed happily as she threaded her hand through his.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: Jon/Sansa and "My kid hero worships you - would you mind recording a message for them and signing an autograph?" I will love it either way, but I would super love it if Sansa is the athlete (and who doesn't love daddy!Jon) Thank you!**

**No daddy!Jon unfortunately but Nights' Watch Boys!**

* * *

"Oh oh oh!" Sam exclaimed breathlessly startling both Jon and Grenn and causing Pyp to break out into sniggers.

"Are you okay?" Jon asked.

"It's her. It's really _her!_"

"Who?" Grenn asked.

"Sansa Stark," Sam exhaled with a kind of reverence that was only ever heard in Sam's voice when he spoke about wizards and Sansa Stark – figure skating extraordinaire.

Sam's three friends all swivelled in their seats so they could get a look.

"Shit, it really is her," Pyp said.

"How is she so much better looking in person?" Grenn asked. "How is that possible?"

Jon's awed gaze at the stunning redhead was broken as Sam clutched onto his arm, his fingers digging painfully into his skin. "Jon!" he said urgently. "Jon, you have to get her autograph for me. You totally have to get her autograph for me!"

"What? No. You need to go up and meet her. She's your idol, not mine."

"I can't!" Sam wailed, his voice going up an octave and making the table nearest to them turn their heads.

"He has a point," Grenn said. "Sam's never going to get a coherent word out in front of-" he tailed off, his hands gesticulating towards Sansa.

"Oh because you're being so eloquent yourself right now," Pyp pointed out with a smug smile.

"Shut up," Grenn snapped. "She's beyond hot, okay! It's indescribable."

Jon closed his eyes for a moment.

"Please, Jon," Sam begged shamelessly. "You're the best one out of us when it comes to talking to girls."

"That's not saying much," Pyp said, amused.

"Ygritte," Grenn coughed.

Jon scowled at his two friends who now sat their sniggering at their own witticisms. There's no way either of them would get Sam an autograph – they'd probably get a drink thrown in their face. He looked at Sam, who sat there with a pleading expression on his face that Jon was sure he'd copied from Ghost when he was begging for scraps.

"Alright," Jon said with a sigh, incapable of disappointing his best friend.

His pushed his chair back and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. He didn't approach many girls full stop let alone Olympic gold medal winning superstars.

He hovered for a second before dragging in a deep breath and striding purposefully up to Sansa Stark.

"Er…hi," he said and then faltered as she turned a stunning pair of vivid blue eyes onto him.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking unsure if she should be amused or alarmed.

"Yeah, you're Sansa Stark, right?" he asked.

_Smooth, Jon, real smooth!_ he scolded himself mentally.

"Yes," she said a little hesitantly.

"Can I get an autograph, please?" he asked before hurriedly tacking on, "If you don't mind."

"Sure," she said, the little smile that curled her lips obviously showing that she'd settled on being amused.

Jon handed over the bookmark that Sam had thrust into his hands. At least it was fairly generic and not too embarrassing being one that Sam had kept from their university days.

"What's your name?" Sansa asked.

"Jon," he replied before he realised that it needed to be made out to Sam. "But could you make it out to Sam?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah," he said, pointing out his friend. "He's a massive fan but was a little too shy to come over and ask you."

"Oh. Did you volunteer to come and get it for him?" Sansa asked as she gave a small wave in Sam's direction.

"Sort of," Jon said.

"That's sweet."

"He loves you. I was his roommate during the last Winter Olympics and he had your figure skating schedule taped up on the fridge so he didn't miss any of it."

Colour flooded her cheeks at his words and a grin crept onto her face. "That's really nice to hear."

"Yeah, you should have heard him when your scores came up in the final round. Our neighbours had to bang on the wall."

Sansa shot another glance in Sam's direction who wasn't even trying to hide his interest in the conversation.

"Do you think he'd want to take a selfie with me?"

Jon puffed out a little laugh. "I think it would be all his birthdays and Christmases rolled into one!"

It turned out that Sansa Stark's friend was running late and so Sansa drank her coffee with them, laughing at the lame antics of Grenn and Pyp, chatting to Jon about ice hockey, and taking the time to draw an incredibly starstruck Sam out of his shell.

As she left, she slipped Jon a napkin with her number on it. "You're an incredibly sweet friend," she said as he walked her to the door. "It'd be nice to get coffee on our own one day."

Jon couldn't help the big smile on his face as he walked back to his friends, who whistled and heckled him as they saw it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: The Prompt from SansaPotter was:**_ **You were the only one in class that got my TV show reference so hey wanna marathon? jon x sansa pleaseee.**_

**I ignored the class bit and of course I made the TV show The 100. And then because I can, I threw in something else I love, so in this the Starks are Villa fans. I don't care if it makes sense or not - my ficlet, my rules!**

* * *

"Sansa! What are you doing here?"

Sansa turned to her left to see Jon, her brother's roommate, settling into the seat beside her.

"My sister, my responsibility," she said with rolled eyes and pointing towards Arya who was down at the front, her phone out, taking pictures of the players warming up. "At least according to mum and dad as Robb is away."

Jon chuckled at that and said, "Oh, channelling Bellamy Blake's words, huh? Let's hope this match ends with a massacre of the other team."

Staring at him in shock, Sansa said, "You got that reference? Hang on, _you_ watch The 100?"

"Don't you give me shit for it as well," Jon said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Robb teases me for watching 'that teenage girl show'."

"Ugh, my brother can be so lame," Sansa said. "It's _not_ a teenage girl show and even if it was then that doesn't stop it from being good."

"I know. I tried to get him to watch it with me but he didn't make it past the first two episodes despite me telling him it got better."

"His loss," Sansa said with a shrug before she looked curiously at Jon. "I still didn't peg you as being a fan."

"It's a good show. It reminds me a little of Battlestar Galactica and there's not that much sci-fi on TV these days. Besides, Sam had been raving on about it so I decided to give it ago."

"Okay, it's now _your _responsibility to help me survive this football match. So tell me; Bellarke or Clexa?" She asked dramatically.

Surprisingly, Jon was really good at both chatting to her about The 100 and being engrossed in the game. All her dread at having her Saturday afternoon wasted at Villa Park watching a boring football match disappeared, especially as Jon hugged her enthusiastically as Agbonlahor put the ball in the back of the net making it 1-0 to Villa.

All too soon, the game came to an end and Sansa actually found herself sad as they filtered out of Villa Park and made their way to Witton Station.

"So," Jon said, an embarrassed expression on his face as they waited for the next train. "Er…Sam was going to come over and re-watch Season 1 with me tomorrow, but he cancelled so he could arrange a date with Gilly. Fancy coming over to watch instead?"

"Are you asking me to marathon a TV series with you, Jon Snow?"

"Well, I've got the snacks and everything already," he mumbled as his cheeks flushed adorably.

"Sounds like a plan," Sansa said. "Text me what time to come over."

"Great. Will do," Jon said, a big grin on his face as the train pulled into the station and the girls got on.

"Did Jon just ask you out on a date?" Arya asked, as the doors closed and the train moved off.

"In his own unique way," Sansa said beaming as she waved to the receding figure watching on the plaform.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: I asked for The Great British Bake Off prompts to build up to the final, which aired last night.**

**The prompt for this one was: I keep staring at you cause you're gorgeous and when you confront me about it I panic and say I was trying to copy your techniques cause I had no idea how to do the technical and now I'm in your kitchen and you're wearing an adorable apron and teaching me things you don't know I already know, because I'm a disaster and you're an angel… this is never going to work out Jon x Sansa**

* * *

Sansa didn't quite know how her staring problem had led to her being here, standing in a fellow contestant's kitchen as he taught her how to make a genoise sponge, but it had.

The problem, of course, was that Jon Snow was far too pretty for his own good. Those grey eyes and those curls had been her downfall from the very first show. She'd gotten lucky so far in that he was usually placed behind her, so it had limited her staring at him time. Unfortunately for her, in the quarter final, he'd been placed diagonally and to the front of her so she'd been able to stare at him to her heart's content.

With that kind of distraction, Sansa still wasn't sure how she'd managed to get through all three challenges, let alone make it into the semi-final of the Great British Bake Off, but she had.

However, Jon Snow had caught her staring during the technical and rather than admit to the rather embarrassing fact that she was half in love with him thanks to his ridiculously full lips and broad shoulders, she'd scrambled for an excuse and ended up saying that she'd never made an genoise sponge before and was looking for help during the technical.

And that was the beautiful thing about the Bake-Off, rather than scowl and pout at her because she was competition, he'd given her a rare smile and offered to help her out during the week.

So here she was.

Winterfell's champion genoise sponge baker pretending that she had no idea how to get the airy light sponge to rise.

Sansa wasn't going to complain though as Jon's teaching technique was rather hands on. He currently stood behind her, his arms encircling her as he 'taught' her how to fold the flour in carefully using a figure of eight movement. She was not to be blamed if she pressed against him rather more than necessary and if the way his arms tightened around him, he didn't seem to mind. However, the feel of him pressed so tightly against her meant that her mind wasn't really paying attention to his words and she feared she was answering him at random.

"You seem a little distracted," he said a few minutes in. "Am I making sense?"

"Oh yes, complete sense," she replied, taking advantage of his comment to gaze at him close up. "Sift half the flour mix in, making sure you fold carefully in a figure of eight so you don't lose the bubbles. Once it has been fully incorporated, fold in the rest of the flour."

Jon narrowed his eyes slightly. "You already know how to do this, don't you?"

Sansa couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth as she nodded her head in confirmation. "I totally do. I was staring at you because you're so beautiful and I got flustered when you called me out on it."

A delicious flush spread across his cheeks and she turned fully in his arms then to face him. "I hope you don't mind," she added.

He looked down towards the floor for a minute before his eyes met hers again. "I was kind of hoping to win you over with my genoise sponge making skills," he said a little shyly.

"I could be impressed by other things that rise," she suggested with a raised eyebrow before cringing at her Mel and Sue inspired innuendo.

However, Jon didn't appear to mind her cheesy words. He ripped his adorable novelty wolf apron off and proceeded to show her baking wasn't his only skill.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Another GBBO ficlet. The prompt was: Jon/Sansa "we live a short transport ride away from each other and you keep insisting I come over and try things for you during the week between shows… are you hitting on me or do you lack any other friends?" pretty please?! Thank you love! :D**

* * *

"So you _do_ have friends," Sansa blurted out as she bumped into Jon in the John Lewis homeware department.

He turned from where he was chatting with two other people – clearly a couple – and looked at her in bemusement. "You had doubts about that?"

"Yes…No…Yes," she stuttered in acute embarrassment as he continued to look at her as if she was crazy. "It's just that you kept talking about meeting up during the week and I couldn't work out if you had no friends or were hitting on me."

If Sansa could control time right now, she would rewind the past couple of minutes and they would never happen. In fact, next time Bran and Rickon asked her what power she'd like as a superhero she was definitely going with the ability to manipulate time.

"No, he was definitely hitting on you," one of his friends said, leaning over and winking at her.

Jon sent him a glare that had no discernible effect on his unrepentant friend.

"What?" the friend asked. "I told you to just ask her out, but you insisted you knew what you were doing, which clearly you didn't if Sansa had pegged you as a socially inept loser with no friends."

Jon groaned and put a hand over his eyes, whilst Sansa's embarrassment began to ease.

"He _is _socially inept," the friend added with an indulgent smile towards Jon. "But he does have friends."

She smiled gratefully at his friend and stuck her hand out and said, "Sansa Stark. I'm the one who kicks Jon's arse every week in the Great British Bake-Off."

"Samwell Tarly and, just between you and me, I rather think he likes how you kick his arse!"

She laughed delightfully at that and then introduced herself to the girl who was clearly dating Samwell.

"So what are you doing here, Snow? Looking for ways to steal Star Baker off me?"

"Actually I'm helping Sam and Gilly put their wedding list together. They're getting married in a couple of months."

"Oh congratulations," Sansa said, smiling at the obviously very happy pair.

"Why don't you go and grab a coffee with Sansa whilst we look at non baking cookware," Sam suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"I think I can ask people out on my own, Sam," Jon retorted.

"Apparently not," Sansa remarked with a smirk. "You've been failing miserably. Lucky for you, I have lots of good tips on how to ask girls out – but you have to buy me a coffee if you want me to share them."

"And that's how it's done," Sam said, grinning at them both.

Sansa winked at Sam and Gilly whilst she linked her arm through Jon and tugged him in the direction of the escalators.

"We're going to need to upgrade Jon to a plus one," Gilly commented as they disappeared from view.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: More GBBO AU. The prompt was: you stole -i'm sorry- "accidentally took" my pastry from the freezer and used it, and I have held a grudge against you ever since that just seems to grow stronger every time you try to apologize and damn you for being a good baker and making it to the final alongside me… wait what do you mean you're helping me sort out a disastrous bake? this is the final! go do your own thing! jonxsansa please :)**

* * *

Sansa had never been so close to tears in all her time baking. She had made it to the final of the Great British Bake Off and everything was going wrong!

She knew her signature bake had been risky, but it was the final, goddammit, and she had been determined to pull out all the stops. _Especially _as Jon Snow was still in the competition.

It was petty to hold a grudge for 6 weeks, she knew that, but she also couldn't help it. He'd stolen her puff pastry out of the fridge and then won all the plaudits for it. Whilst she'd been forced to use his far-from-adequate puff pastry and received a disappointed look from _both_ Mary and Paul. She had reasons to hold that grudge!

Two hands came around the meringue snow castle she was trying to construct out of Swiss and Italian meringue and cream. "Here, let me hold this together whilst you layer in some cream. It should hold a lot better then," Jon said.

Sansa stared at him a moment before he raised an eyebrow and jerked his head signalling that she should get on with it. Not wanting to waste another second of precious time, she started to do as he suggested.

"Why are you helping me? It's the final! Shouldn't you be sorting out your own bake?"

"I'm waiting for something to cool down and you look like you need an extra pair of hands."

She did and she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As she continued to work, he said, "I was also kind of hoping that helping you out would mean you stopped hating me."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Sansa said, "You _stole_ my puff pastry. I'm not sure you should be forgiven."

"It was by accident! I would never intentionally steal something from you. I'm really _really_ sorry," he said giving her puppy dog eyes that she was sure she shouldn't encourage.

However, that was her problem. Prior to Jon stealing her puff pastry in week 3, she'd been a flustered mess around him, which she had not enjoyed. Sansa was used to being the one who made others nervous and Jon was nothing like the suave, sophisticated men that usually attracted her. He was pretty sombre and quiet and liked flannel far too much.

Then again, maybe that was something in his favour. It's not as if any of the men she'd dated before had turned out to be particularly nice. They'd all had the correct physical package but left a lot to be desired in the personality department. That was something that could not be said for Jon. None of the other contestants had a bad word to say about him, claiming he was kind and helpful.

Randa had eyed her knowingly as her grudge continued during Quarter Final week and had said, "It's because you fancy him. If it had been Pod who'd stolen your pastry, you'd have forgiven him by now, but Jon's hot and you hate that you find him hot."

She'd vehemently denied the accusations, but she couldn't lie to herself any longer. It _was_ because she found him attractive.

Taking a deep breath, she met his anxious gaze and gave in to the inevitable. "I'll forgive you, if you take me out for a drink once this is all over."

Jon stared at her in shock. "What?"

"Take me out for a drink and I'll forget you stole my pastry."

"_Accidentally took_ your pastry and I'll take you to dinner, not a drink."

"Deal," she said before she nodded over to his own work station. "Now get back to your own bake. It's the final, dummy!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: The last of the GBBO AU ficlets and my favourite out of them. The prompt was: Jon x Sansa - we both thought I was joking when I proposed to you the moment I tasted your macaroons but this is becoming less and less of a joke for me and what did I do to deserve this? can't I just bake in peace?**

* * *

"These macaroons are so good I could marry you!" Sansa declared soulfully.

"And that's a first, ladies and gentlemen, a marriage proposal on the Great British Bake Off," Sue deadpanned into the camera.

Sansa could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. It was the first time she'd been so blown away by a contestant that she hadn't even realised what she was saying and she felt incredibly unprofessional right now.

However, in her defence, no one had seen Jon Snow coming this year. The bespectacled, flannel wearing Jon Snow who looked as if he was more at home hanging out with Bear Grylls in the wilderness rather than in the Bake Off tent producing baked goods so delicate and intricate that she had run out of superlatives and was now apparently proposing marriage. She was in trouble with this one.

She could see the colour high on his cheeks as Paul gave him the famed handshake and Sansa smiled vaguely in his direction. Her main aim at this point was to get out of this with some dignity intact and she was pleased to note that she retained a calm and serene air as they moved around the rest of the contestants, sampling and offering praise or criticism.

When Sansa had replaced the retiring Mary Berry two seasons ago, there had been an outcry that the Beeb was hiring her purely to 'sex-up' the Great British Bake-off. It wasn't true, of course, Sansa deserved to be hired. She'd been a teenage cooking sensation, winning Junior Masterchief and gaining her own TV show not long after. However, her real love had always been baking and so when her agent told her the BBC were interested in hiring her to replace Mary, she had jumped at the opportunity.

Her first season had gone smoothly, but this year looked as if it might be derailed by just how affected she was by Jon Snow. Was she tacky enough to be falling for one of the contestants? The Daily Mail was going to be all over this with their usual brand of vitriolic hate.

"He should be a lumberjack not a baking phenomenon," she muttered to herself as they left the tent.

"Just imagine what else those hands can do," Mel teased her and Sansa wished she could purge the imagery conjured by those words.

Sansa avoided going near Jon the next day as the judges and contestants all hugged after the latest elimination. She didn't trust herself too close to him, limiting herself a nod and a mouthed, "well done."

She told herself that she imagined the heavy gaze she could feel coming from him as they all waited for the cars to take them away from the filming sight, but she caught sight of him staring at her as she slid into her car. His eyes tracked over her long legs with a heat that had her pressing her thighs firmly together on the way home. Her dreams that night certainly were not PG.

Unsurprisingly, Jon Snow won the Great British Bake Off that year, wowing them in the final with a lemon themed showstopper that had her daydreaming about him feeding it to her morsel by tasty morsel whilst she licked his fingers clean.

This was meant to be a family friendly show not fuel for her fantasies.

At the celebration banquet afterwards, Jon towed her into a secluded room, pressed her up against the closed door and kissed her until she was incoherent.

Later that night, he fed her macaroons with the excuse that she needed to "keep her strength up."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: inadvertent matching costumes.**

* * *

Sansa was meant to be going to the big Halloween ball as Jonquil. She and Joffrey had planned it. She had been surprised when he had agreed to be Florian because, honestly, she thought he would have refused to dress up as anyone who was low born. Joffrey was proud like that, and once upon a time, Sansa had thought it was a good thing. That you should be proud of your lineage and Joffrey was the son to not one, but two great houses. However, that had been before she'd dated Joffrey for too long and realised just how obnoxious he, and that opinion, was. She really should have dumped him months ago.

Then a month before the ball, Joffrey had laughed in her face, asked if she seriously thought he was going to dress up as an _ugly fool_, and then told her that actually he was ending their relationship and was going to the ball with Margaery Tyrell. To be perfectly honest, Sansa hadn't been too upset. If it had happened a year before, Sansa might have been devastated, but she had only still been with Joffrey because she had made such a fuss about dating him to her family, and she was too proud to admit that they were all right about him.

The most annoying aspect about the whole thing had been that Sansa had already made her Jonquil costume and it was beautiful, but she couldn't go without a Florian and she was damned if she was going to let Joffrey spoil her Halloween. It was her favourite holiday and she always made the most elaborate costumes for it.

So, Sansa had stayed up late for several nights and fashioned herself a new costume. She wouldn't go as a southern maiden from one of the songs, instead she would dress as the terrifying antagonist of a Northern tale - the Night's Queen.

She would also have the added pleasure of irritating Joffrey, who was never shy in expressing how much he hated the North and found it primitive and backwards.

"Just like you," he'd said when he broke it off, proclaiming that Margaery was the epitome of southern sophistication and culture. Something that Sansa _Stark_ could never be.

Well, she would live up to her name and proudly.

Sansa scowled as Ned Dayne walked away. She had been sure that Ned Dayne would want to flirt with her, mayhaps even make out with her, but instead all he had done was get her a drink and then helpfully tell her that her boyfriend was over by the darts board.

This had happened to her all night. Apparently, there was someone who was masquerading as her boyfriend. She might have thought that people hadn't realised that she and Joffrey were no longer dating, but as Joffrey had spent the majority of the party entwined with Margaery on the dancefloor, it was pretty obvious even for those who didn't follow the college gossip.

Then, just as she was about to go and find Jeyne so they could work out who the mystery 'boyfriend' was, Sansa bumped into him.

Her drink spilt out of the glass and she only just avoided it staining her costume by a timely leap backwards.

"Watch where you're going!" she snapped without looking up.

"I'm really sorry," the offender apologised.

Recognising the northern cadence of the voice, her head snapped up and Sansa came face to face with the grey eyes of Jon Snow, and could not stop the disbelieving laugh that burst from her mouth as she took in his costume.

Sansa had forgotten that Jon was studying for his Masters at the University of King's Landing. Both Robb and Arya had mentioned it to her as she left Winterfell to travel down south for the new academic year, but it had completely slipped her mind. Post-grads and undergrads didn't have a huge social overlap usually either, so it wasn't surprising that she hadn't seen him.

Then there was the fact that she'd struggled to see northern Jon Snow enjoying it in the King's Landing. Whilst Robb had gone to university in the Riverlands, Jon had headed even further north than Winter Town (where he lived with his mother, Lyanna, who was some sort of distant Stark relation), to Castle Black and the bleak university there that had great financial aid packages because it struggled to recruit otherwise.

But it seemed, like her, that Jon was determined to bring his northern heritage to this very southern setting and had come dressed in the black of the Night's Watch, and not just any man of the Watch if the icy crown in his dark curls was taken into consideration. The 'boyfriend' mystery was solved.

"My beloved liege," Sansa said, sweeping him a very dramatic curtsy whilst her eyes peeped mischievously up at him.

Jon gave her a rare smile. "I should've known it would be you."

"Me what?"

"You who would be dressed as the Night's Queen. I've had people telling me all night where my girlfriend is."

She laughed then. "Me too! Although I wasn't astute enough to think that there would be someone here dressed as the Night's King. I was just really confused. Then again, the Jon Snow I remember from Winter Town wouldn't have been at this party."

His cheeks reddened a little above the delightfully trimmed beard he sported. Sansa didn't remember him looking this delicious back home and all of a sudden her night was infinitely improved. Inadvertent matching costumes had given her the perfect opportunity to flirt and possibly do more with her brother's turned-incredibly-handsome best friend.

"I was dragged here by a friend, who I've since lost, so I've been wandering around looking a little like a lost puppy. No wonder people kept trying to reunite you with your boyfriend."

Sansa slipped an arm through his and was pleasantly surprised by how muscled his arms were. Squeezing his biceps playfully, she said in her best flirtatious tone, "Well, now you have found your queen, let's see who we can sacrifice to the Others."

He barked out an amused laugh and said, "Sansa Stark, you shock me!"

Giving him a sultry look that had him licking unintentionally licking his lips, Sansa said, "Oh I intend to amaze you tonight, Jon Snow."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: ** "I thought you were joking about being a witch" promt for Jon x Sansa please.

* * *

The sharp intake of breath from behind her had Sansa whirling around quickly, her wand still drawn.

"Jon!" she said. "I was just getting the house cleaned up."

He looked pale and his eyes were wide with shock.

"I thought you were joking about being a witch," he managed to stutter out after a long moment.

Sansa walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek and patted his shoulder kindly. "I would never joke about that."

"But how?" he asked in clear confusion.

"Great-Grandma Arya. The mountain clans have magic in their veins from intermarrying with the Children. It's a sore subject at home because Arya is still pissed that I'm the one who got the magic despite her being named after Arya Flint."

Eyes still wide, Jon fumbled his way over to the sofa before he rubbed a hand over his face and then chuckled.

"What?" Sansa asked.

"Sam is going to be so jealous. He's always wanted to be a wizard."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: "we're at a harry potter themed halloween party and you and i are the ONLY hufflepuffs, what the heck?" this ons screams Jon x Sansa**

* * *

"I always took you for a man of taste," Sansa said, coming up to him.

Jon snorted at that. If there was one thing he was sure of then it was the fact that Sansa had never praised his sense of style before. "Hmm…not sure I ever got that impression," he replied.

"Well, obviously it's something you've grown into since the last time I saw you if your Hufflepuff attire is anything to go on."

He laughed then and grinned at her. "Clearly we are the only two here with any sense of style."

"So many Gryffindors and Slytherins," she grimaced at the rest of the people attending Robb and Margaery's Harry Potter themed Halloween party. "At least Robb and Margaery are sorted correctly. He's _definitely_ a Gryffindor and she's _definitely_ a Slytherin."

"Full disclosure," he said, leaning in close and whispering in her ear as if he was sharing a state secret. "I'm not a Hufflepuff on Pottermore. I just like the house in general."

She turned then, her face so close to his that he could count the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. She'd hated them growing up, saw them as a blemish, but he'd always thought they were cute. Gave her perfect face a little character. Aware of the unexpected affect her closeness was having on him now, he wasn't sure he found them cute so much anymore rather than sexy.

"I'm not a Hufflepuff either," she whispered back. "Guess that makes one more thing we have in common."

"Hmm," he said, distracted by how stunning she was this close up. He was sure he should take a step back, but his legs seemed incapable of doing such a thing. Then his hand came up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes.

"Jon," she murmured, her eyes locked onto his lips.

He leaned forward and was millimetres from brushing his lips against hers, when Robb's strident voice sounded across the room and he realised he was about to kiss Sansa Stark in a crowded room.

In sync, they both stepped back and then Sansa gave him a wicked smile and said, "Want to find somewhere a little quieter?"

"I heard Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders," he retorted and enjoyed the peal of laughter she gave at his cheesy reference.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **** tesadoraofphaedra requested _weeks_ ago a completely different Gadge + cat fic and I struggled to think of anything! Then this happened and it sort of combines Halloween-y magic themes with Gadge so I thought I'd write it as part of my Halloween drabbles.**

* * *

"Oh, Gale! You got a cat?!" Prim asked as she and Katniss entered his apartment.

"Uh no," he replied, confused until he saw the cat in question, lounging on his sofa as if it owned the place. "How did it get back in? That's the fifth time this week and I _know_ I didn't leave a window open this morning. I checked!"

"It's so adorable," Prim squealed, going over to it and picking it up and checking its tag. "Hello Peeta, aren't you gorgeous boy."

"Don't be friendly," Gale admonished. "The beast will probably get ideas and want to move in."

Prim rolled her eyes and said to the cat, "You wouldn't want to live with Grumpy Gale, would you? You have better taste than that!"

"Grumpy Gale is giving up his bed for you and Catnip so show some gratitude," he replied.

The cat lifting its head at the use of his nickname for Katniss, squirmed to get out of Prim's arms and then made its way over to Katniss, where it weaved in and out of her legs, purring loudly and head butting her every couple of seconds. Bemused, Katniss bent down and scratched the kitty behind its ears.

Shaking his head at the sight of his best friend who usually didn't even _like_ animals you couldn't kill to eat, Gale said, "Let's get the pair of you settled and then return the cat to its owner."

Prim pouted and asked, "Couldn't we keep him for a couple of hours? His owner might be out and he might be lonely."

"Fine, if no one answers then you can play with it for the afternoon."

The pretty blonde who owned the cat was usually in anyway. The first time he'd returned the cat, he'd gone over there prepared to yell, but she'd opened the door, been so apologetic, scolded her cat in such an endearing way and stammered out her apologies to him that he didn't have it in him to shout at her. In fact, every time he went to return the cat he thought about asking her out, but he tended to lose his nerve once she was standing in front of him. He wasn't the best at dating and it would be really awkward if it didn't work out when they live on the same floor.

He was disappointed when she wasn't in.

* * *

Later that evening, Madge closed the door and then turned to glare at Peeta.

"How many times have I told you to stop going over there?" she asked.

The cat sat on her coffee table and licked his paws before he replied, "Well, if I didn't go over, you would never have spoken to Gorgeous Gale, or even know his name, so I figure you owe me."

"Ugh, you're just trying to push me into a relationship so this stupid curse lifts and you get to be human once more."

"Pushing you into a relationship didn't work, remember? We did that with Marvel _and _Thresh and I'm still a cat. Nope, you need to find true love and he's the best lead we've had for over two centuries."

Madge sighed. She hated it when Peeta was right, but he was. Gale was the first man to interest her since Thresh in 1948 and she _knew_ it was different this time. She could almost taste the electricity in the air when Gale was around.

However, she'd been cursed in 1805 when things were a lot less progressive than they were now and the man had to woo her, not the other way around. She was trying to be patient but all her attempts at showing him how available she was had failed so far and he was yet to ask her out on a date.

That was when Peeta had decided to meddle. To be honest, it had been a miracle that he had waited as long as he had as all her attempts to attract Gale's notice prior to his drastic intervention hadn't worked.

Yet, for all Gale's charming smiles and lingering conversation at her door, he hadn't made any move on her and Madge was _really_ tired of being twenty-one. She'd been fed up a week after her birthday and it was now over two hundred years later and twenty-one was not getting any better.

Madge flopped onto the sofa and looked sadly at Peeta. "I don't think he's ever going to ask me out," she said.

He rolled his eyes as sassily as a cat could and said, "Yeah, he will. He's just being stubborn about it. He's got company this week anyway. His best friend and her little sister – I reckon they'll soon whip him into shape."

She pointed her finger at him. "Just stop using your magic to get into his place."

Peeta gave her a hideously smug cat look and she knew it was a lost cause.

* * *

"Who's the cute blonde?" Katniss asked, later that night when Prim was taking a shower at getting ready for bed.

Gale tried to play dumb. "Cute blonde?"

"Stupid is not a good look on you, Gale, so cut it out. You're interested. I know you are. You've got that look about you."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Fine. Try and deny it, but it's your loss. She's cute and she's totally into you, too."

He looked at her then a little eagerly. "You think so?"

Katniss gave him her best unimpressed look and then said, "Just ask her out already."

Gale woke up the next morning to the cat sitting on his chest, purring obnoxiously loudly.

"How are you back?" he asked, more bemused than ever. "I don't even understand how you get in here!"

The cat kneaded his chest, which _really_ hurt as he didn't even have a t-shirt on and then jumped on the floor and ran towards Gale's bedroom as the door opened.

Katniss peered out and asked, "Who are you talking to?"

Then the cat rubbed against her bare legs and she looked down in confusion. "It's back," she said, surprised before she bent to stroke along its back.

Gale heard the furball's purr from across the room.

"You want to take it back whilst I put the coffee on?" he asked.

"Oh no!" Katniss replied. "You don't get out of seeing the cute blonde that easily! Go and ask if she wants to have breakfast with us."

He pulled on a t-shirt, scooped up the cat and then left the apartment. Knocking quietly on the apartment door, part of him hoped she wouldn't hear.

The door swung open and Madge appeared with glorious bedhead. "Gale? Is everything okay?" she asked sleepily.

"Er…yeah. I just wanted to return this," he said, handing the cat out.

"Again, Peeta!" Madge scolded as she took her pet off him. "I'm really sorry about this."

She started to close the door as he hesitated about following Katniss' advice and asking her around for breakfast, but the thought of losing his opportunity had him putting his hand on it to stop it closing any further as he stuttered, "Do you want to come over and join us for breakfast?"

Pulling the door open again, she grinned at him and said, "I'd love to."

* * *

A week later, Peeta was preening in front of her mirror as Madge tried to shove him out the way.

"It was better when you were a cat," she grumbled as she attempted to apply mascara in the tiny corner he was allowing her to have.

"This is your _third_ date, Madge," he replied. "My need is greater! This is my _first_ date since Delly Cartwright back in 1804!"

"You're forgetting about that tabby," she said cheekily.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Halloween prompt! Jon/Sansa- At a haunted house OR one of them (accidentally or not) dresses up for Halloween as a character that the other has a ~thing~ for? Thank you lovely!**

**I feel all my Jon x Sansa Halloween drabbles have revolved around halloween costumes but I could not resist this!**

* * *

Sansa clutched Jeyne's arm, came to a stop and whined, "No."

Jeyne used to how melodramatic Sansa could be at times, looked at her friend in amusement and asked, "What's wrong?"

"How could he do this to me? Why is he doing this to me?"

"You've lost me."

"Jon Snow. Have you _seen_ who Jon Snow is dressed as?"

Sansa waited impatiently whilst her friend scanned the room looking for Robb's oldest and best friend. She didn't understand how it could take so long – then again, her eyes seemed to automatically hone in on Jon whenever she entered a room he was already in. It was inconvenient this crush of hers. She hated it and she wished it would go away. It's was ridiculously clichéd and she also got all kinds of teasing from Jeyne Poole who thought it was _hilarious_ that Sansa had fallen so into lust with _Jon Snow_ of all people.

If she wasn't so knee deep in wanting him so much that she couldn't look at his hands without picturing just all the things he could do her with them, she'd probably find it amusing, too. Yet, she was so it wasn't at all entertaining for her.

Jeyne finally found him and said, "He's dressed as what – Mr Rochester? That's not hot, Sansa, he locked his wife in an attic! Look at Theon, he's dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow and looks divine."

Sansa would find Jeyne's crush on Theon funny, but she'd known him for too long and was fairly disgusted by Jeyne's lack of taste. Theon was a slut and her best friend could do so much better.

"Ugh, please. First off, no, Theon is _not_ divine and, secondly, how many times have I told you watch North and South? I'm not even asking you to read the book (which you should, by the way). No, I'm basically giving you a cop out – a cop out where Richard Armitage smoulders at the camera for four hours! He's John Thornton. It's almost as if he's read my mind and come as the one fictional character that I have a massive weakness for."

Jeyne tilted her head and scanned Jon up and down. "He does look good, I'll give him that. Those trousers are doing good things for his thighs and his shoulders look pretty amazing."

"Exactly. This is not good, Jeyne, not good at all. You have to keep me away from him."

"Away from him? Why? What are you going to do exactly? Push him up against the wall and kiss him senseless?"

* * *

That's exactly what Sansa did, when Jeyne, distracted by flirting with Theon, left her alone for ten minutes. She tracked Jon down, grabbed him by his cravat, pulled him into an empty room, pushed him up against the door and proceeded to show him exactly how much she liked him dressed as John Thornton.

However, she missed the way he hi-fived Arya when she finally let him go after getting him to agree concrete plans for a date the next night and the money he slipped in her little sister's hands. It wasn't until the next Halloween that he let slip how he'd bribed Arya to tell him the one costume that would get Sansa all hot and flustered so she would make a move.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt Jon x Sansa - "I'm handing out candy and you're taking your little siblings out trick or treating and OMG that's just adorable."**

**Also, I have no idea what this is or why it's so weird! **

* * *

"That is probably the most adorable sight I've seen all night," Jon said.

The tall redhead raised her eyebrows but it really was. He'd seen some pretty good costumes but nothing as cute as Little Red Riding Hood out taking her two wolves for a walk.

Then Little Red smiled at him and said, "Thanks. They both wanted to be wolves and I've been reading them Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes so it made sense to have Little Red Riding Hood with pet wolves."

He gave her a blank look and wished he'd had a normal upbringing so he was more up-to-date with children's books. His mother had died giving birth to him and his father hadn't wanted to bring his bastard to live with his wife and trueborn children, so Jon had been raised in the Tower of Joy by a couple of paid servants. It meant he was generally clueless when it came to actual childhood experiences. One of the reasons why he'd been so keen to open the door to trick or treaters all evening. This was stuff he'd never gotten to do as a kid.

"Basically, Roald Dahl takes popular fairy tales and gives them a twist. So Prince Charming isn't so charming and Cinderella ends up with a bee keeper, and Goldilocks is treated like the burglar she is."

Jon laughed at that. "So you're not into the romance of fairy tales then?"

"Oh no, I am," Little Red replied. "However, it's cool to see them shaken up and my brothers really like these versions."

"I'm Shaggydog," the smaller of the two boys said incomprehensively before he held his pumpkin bucket out and asked, "Candy?"

Jon laughed and gave them both a couple of handfuls of chocolate. It was more than he'd given to other kids but they looked so cute and their sister was really pretty.

"You're not from around here are you?" Little Red asked. "I mean, you look like you're from around here but I've never seen you before."

Jon did have a northern look. It had been a massive disappointment to his father who'd wanted a _daughter_ with silver hair and the purple eyes of House Targaryen. Not this Stark looking son. Jon had always wondered if that's why he was never welcome in his father's home.

"No. I was brought up in Dorne, but my mother came from the North."

Little Red snapped her fingers in recognition. "Jon Snow. You're Jon Snow!"

"Erm…yeah," he said confused by how she knew him.

She held her hand out for him to shake and then said, "I believe we're distant relations. My dad mentioned you had moved here. I'm Sansa Stark and these two are Bran and Rickon."

He had yet to meet anyone from his mother's distant family other than Ned, who'd rented him his flat and invited him up to dinner in Winterfell tomorrow night.

"Oh, nice to meet you," Jon said, shaking her hand. "I'm coming up to dinner tomorrow, I believe."

The prospect of meeting the rest of the Starks had suddenly become both more intriguing as well as lot more nerve-wracking now this gorgeous girl was going to be there.

She gave him a big smile then and said, "I look forward to meeting you properly tomorrow night, Jon Snow."

There was a hint of promise in her tone that had his cheeks flushing.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: ****Can you please do the snoring prompt for Jon x Sansa: I didn't know you snored until a half hour ago but i'm staring at the ceiling fighting the urge to kick you**

* * *

If anyone had asked him which Stark sibling was most likely to snore then pretty Sansa Stark would've been at the bottom of his list.

However, here he was at 2:29am desperately trying to sleep and Sansa was snoring so loudly it had driven Ghost from the room in a fit of whimpers.

Not only did she snore loudly, but she apparently slept like the dead and was impervious to pokes. He'd been poking at her arm for the last ten minutes with no discernible effect. She was still snoring and he was still wide awake.

He had the urge to kick her – and hard! But before he gave in to his baser desires, which would probably cause her to become angry with him, he sighed, grabbed his pillows and a spare blanket from the cupboard and went to join Ghost on the sofa.

"What are you doing sleeping out here?"

The question woke him up and he sat up disorientated for a moment. The heavy weight of Ghost was gone from the bottom of the sofa.

"What?" he asked dazedly.

"Why are you sleeping on the sofa?"

As his sleepiness rescinded, he glared up at Sansa and said accusingly, "Your snoring drove me out here!"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth as she coloured a painful red, bit her lip and looked away.

"Oh," she said in a small soft voice.

In his haste to get up, he tripped over his blankets and slid to the floor in an inelegant lump.

"Damn it!" he roared, irritated at his clumsiness at such a time.

He and Sansa had only been dating a couple of weeks and this was the first time she'd stayed over and he really didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

_Too late,_ he thought as she flinched at his yelling.

"Uh, yeah, I'm going to take a shower and…erm…go," she mumbled.

"No! Wait!" Jon said, getting to his feet. "I wasn't shouting at you"

She stopped walking so quickly towards the bathroom, turned back to face him but her eyes remained staring to the side of him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I didn't mind the snoring."

Sansa looked at him for the first time since he had mentioned it and asked eagerly, "Really?"

"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "It's kind of cute, but you need to tell me how to wake you up."

"Arya used to just kick me. Claimed it worked every time."

_Huh_, Jon thought.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: Match-making Robb and Arya. ****Written for the lovely winteroses-are-beautiful, who requested some Jon x Sansa fluff because she had a crappy day! Hope you like it, sweetling!**

* * *

"What are you up to?" Arya asked suspiciously.

Robb straightened from where he had been peering through the crack in the door hinge. "Nothing."

His little sister narrowed her eyes before she shoved him out the way and put her eye to the gap. She sighed, shook her head and turned back to her oldest brother, accusation written large on her face. "You're throwing them together. Why?"

Robb eyed Arya, deciding whether to tell her or not. Jon was her favourite person in the world and he knew she wished that he was her real brother. It had bugged Robb when he was younger, that she would prefer their second cousin so much more than him – her actual brother. But then Jon looked like Arya and was often as out of place as Arya herself. He knew that she hadn't picked up on Jon's feelings towards Sansa, hadn't realised he was more than usually tongue-tied in front of her older sister. Robb wasn't sure how Arya would take this knowledge, she didn't have the best relationship with Sansa. Oh, they loved each other but were chalk and cheese and Jon was Arya's special person, the one she went to with her secrets, much as Sansa had done with him until recently. _Until Joffrey_, he thought with a scowl.

"He likes her," he blurted out, thinking that getting Arya used to the idea would be better than it being dropped on her like a bombshell if Jon ever got the nerve up to ask Sansa out.

Arya scoffed. "Yeah, right. Jon wouldn't like an airhead like Sansa."

He tutted. "You have to stop that, you know. She's not an airhead."

"She doesn't exactly say nice things about me."

Robb sighed. Arya had a point. The comments that had come out of Sansa and Jeyne Poole's mouth had never been particularly kind but the Sansa that had come from university in the Vale wasn't the same girl of two years ago, although he thought the changes had started earlier when she had been dating Joffrey. "Maybe she didn't but if you hadn't noticed, she's grown up a bit lately.

That put a pensive expression on Arya's face and she turned once more to peer into the drawing room. She stood watching for a much longer time before she turned back around and eyed Robb. "Maybe he does and maybe she has, but that doesn't explain why you're throwing them together. You hate the idea of Sansa dating anyone."

His little sister knew him too well. If he had his way then none of his sisters would ever grow up. Sansa would be happy playing with dolls, acting out songs, and Arya would never want to do anything but run about Winterfell, getting under everyone's feet and begging Father to be allowed to join the Winter Town fencing team, too, gender rules be damned. But he had had to come to terms with the reality when Sansa had brought home Joffrey Baratheon and he had had to restrain himself from launching himself across the table and punching him in the face.

Ironically, that had also been the moment he had realised Jon had feelings for Sansa. Jon had sat through the entire dinner with his fingers grasping his fork so tightly that his knuckles had shone white. Robb hadn't been exactly thrilled with the discovery, but that was three years ago now, and in that time Sansa had broken up with Joffrey, had a drunken stalker, had to deal with the inappropriate attentions of their mum's childhood friend, and had just broken up with her university boyfriend, Harry.

So he shrugged. "Jon's the best of a bad bunch. At least he'll treat her nicely."

Arya snorted but looked at him with more respect than she usually did before she turned once more to peep through the crack. She shook her head as if wishing a distasteful thought away before glancing at him out the corner of her eye.

"I'm impressed that you're actually prepared to push Sansa together with a male - let alone our cousin, but I'm not sure what Jon gets out of this situation," she said, giving him a dismissive look and walking into room.

Robb thought it was strange that Arya had never noticed how lonely Jon was. He needed someone who would love him unconditionally and forever. Someone like Sansa.

Jon looked up as Arya came in and felt his cheeks redden as she gave him an assessing look. He knew the colour deepened as Robb followed her in and he shifted his position on the sofa so he wasn't sitting quite so close to Sansa. Somehow he'd ended up with his thigh pressed against hers and now he was left with the pleasant tingle of lingering warmth all whilst Robb sat across from them making conversation. Guilt sat heavily at the bottom of his stomach. Robb would darken both his eyes if he knew what regularly went through Jon's thoughts when his eyes rested on Sansa.

"You promised to help me with my defence. I waited for ages," Arya voice cut across his thoughts, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck and threw her an apologetic glance, but before he could speak Sansa got in there first.

"Sorry, Arya, it was my fault. I kept Jon tied up here."

"I bet you did," Arya muttered, making Robb smother a laugh and Sansa twist her hands in her lap, although she shyly smiled up at him making his gut twist in response.

Jon shifted on the sofa as Arya stared knowingly at him. "Maybe I could help you now," he offered, keen to avoid uncomfortably atmosphere that had sprung up.

"Good idea. You don't mind if I borrow Jon, do you, Sansa?" she asked in a sweetly mocking tone.

She didn't bother waiting for a reply before she grabbed his hand and dragged him out with her.

Arya barely waited until they had left the drawing room before opening her mouth. "He knows," she said cryptically.

"What?" he asked.

"Robb. He knows."

Jon hoped he was imagining what Arya was getting at. He was sure if Robb even had an idea that his feelings towards Sansa were anything other than familial, he wouldn't sit there smiling but have the ancient Stark family sword out of the armory and up against his neck.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, praying that he wasn't that transparent.

"You know what I mean. Your little crush on Sansa. That's why he's throwing you together so much."

He stopped and gaped at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Robb wouldn't throw me together with Sansa. He'd throw me to Grey Wind."

"Stupid," Arya said, punching his arm. "Robb's decided that as he can't stop Sansa from dating, he'll try and direct who she dates. Typical Robb really."

Jon spluttered incomprehensively and Arya laughed in his face.

"You know he's never going to admit his feelings, right? He probably thinks he's breaking some kind of honour code," Robb said as he moved from the chair to the seat on the sofa Jon had just vacated.

Sansa looked up at him, a confused look on her face that would've fooled him if he hadn't seen the dimple briefly quiver at the corner of her mouth. She was good at masking her feelings these days, a development that worried his parents.

"Don't play dumb, Sansa, it doesn't suit you. Jon's not exactly going to win any awards for disguise."

The slightly baffled look was dropped and a sweet smile spread across his sister's face. "I know. I think it's one of the things I appreciate most about him."

There was something behind those words but Robb wasn't sure if he wanted to probe into them. There was a reason his sister no longer dreamt about knights and princesses and happy ever afters and he was sure he probably would not be able to handle it.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asked.

A cheeky grin broke out on Sansa's face. "Are you really asking me about my intentions with boys?"

Robb grimaced and she laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd actually encourage me. I guess that's what all those mysterious trips out of the room were about when it's just been the three of us."

He should have known that he wouldn't be able to pull the wool over her eyes. Jon yes, but Sansa - not a chance.

"You seem more open to him and the gods know, he's been into you for long enough. I thought it was time I encourage you into a seeing a decent guy, not one of those deadbeat losers you've had around you."

Robb regretted the words as soon as they are out of his mouth and Sansa's face fell. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he thought.

She untucked her hair from behind her right ear and letting it drop so it blocked his view of her face. "Yes, well, Jon's a good guy all round. I think it's better if I leave him alone," she said as she began to rise from the sofa.

He put his hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down, which made her turn to face him. "Don't do that, Sansa. Don't make out that he's too good for you because it's not true. You deserve someone like him, someone who won't make you cry or put shadows in your eyes."

The surprise on her face was genuine, not like the feigned expression she had used on him earlier. "Believe it or not, I want to see you happy and I know that Jon is the type of man who could make you happy."

"Brave and gentle and strong," she muttered so quietly that he leant forward to catch it.

"What?"

Startling, she looked up at him. "Nothing," she said quickly. "Just something dad said to me once but I was too stupid to listen."

Robb had the urge to pry once more, to find out exactly what has been going on but something gnawed at him, which made him hesitate and swallow back the question. _Do you really want to know?_ he asked himself. _What are you going to be able to do with the information?_

Instead he settled for concentrating on the present. "I meant it. He's a good guy and you could do a lot worse, but always remember that he'd be lucky to have you."

He was taken aback when she launched herself into his arms, her head burrowing under his chin. She hadn't hugged him like this since she was a little girl and they would play knights and maidens in the godswood and he swing her up and carry out in a dramatic rescue.

"So I have your blessing," she whispered into his neck, a hint of mischief in her voice.

"For what it's worth," he said wryly.

She kissed his cheek and beamed at him, a smile so reminiscent of the old Sansa that his heart lightened.

Arya stopped, her hand going out to grasp Nymeria by her collar as she spotted the pair entwined by the Heart Tree.

It had been a couple of days since Robb had admitted that he was trying to match-make Sansa and Jon and she'd taken that time to observe them herself. The conclusions she had drawn were that Robb was right – for once! They were stupidly in love with each other, but so sure that the other person wasn't into them that they just pined from afar.

So she had decided to help her brother out and between them they'd laid several stratagems to get Sansa and Jon to admit their feelings for each other including locking them in the glass gardens together.

It seemed that all that time spent together had nudged them in the right direction if the determined kissing she was accidently spying on was any indication.

"Come on," she whispered to Nymeria. "Let's go and tell Robb the good news and if they haven't pried their lips off each other soon, then we'll Rickon out to throw mud at them."

Her wolf looked up at her and Arya was sure there was a grin on her face, too.


End file.
